Oh, at least at the beginning, just at the beginning. As soon as I can let go, I will go alone. In the meantime I must hold this hand of yours --- though I can't invent your face and your eyes and your mouth. Yet even amputated, that hand doesn't scare me. Its invention comes from such an idea of love as if the hand really were attached to a body that I don't see only because I can't love enough.
I cannot imagine a whole person because I am not a whole person. And how can I imagine a face without knowing what expression I need? As soon as I can release your warm hand, I'll go alone and with horror. The horror will be my responsibility until the metamorphosis is complete and the horror becomes light.
Not the light born of a desire for beauty and moralism, as before without realizing I intended; but the natural light of whatever exists, and it is that natural light that terrorizes me. Though I know that the horror --- I am the horror in the face of things. (clarice lispector)